


strong black coffee in very small cups

by streetsuss_serenade



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetsuss_serenade/pseuds/streetsuss_serenade
Summary: Nate and Brad have been together long enough that it shouldn't surprise Nate how deeply he loves. But sometimes he's still knocked on his ass by his feelings for Brad.





	strong black coffee in very small cups

**Author's Note:**

> Based entirely off of the characters from the HBO miniseries. 
> 
> Endless thanks for mellowmoonballoon on Tumblr for listening to me whine about this for far longer than a fic this short deserves, and for telling me that no one would mind if I added *more* Nate feelings.

“What is it with you and Wyoming?” Nate asked, trying to wrestle Brad’s left foot out of his dress shoe. 

Brad, who’d gotten stuck halfway through trying to remove his button down without unbuttoning it, said, from within his cotton prison, “What do you have against Wyoming?”

“I don’t have anything against Wyoming. But every time you try to convince me that you aren’t that drunk by naming state capitals, you start with Cheyenne.”

“Oh” Brad gave up on the dress shirt and popped his head out the head-hole again, “I’m not that drunk. And you should come here.” He patted the spot next to him and gave Nate a sloppy smile. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Nate ignored him and moved on to Brad’s second shoe. To be fair to Brad, he actually wasn’t that drunk. The only reason he was helping Brad with his shoes at all was because it kept Brad in one place and it kept Nate out of arm’s reach. Tipsy Brad was stubborn and sneaky, and Nate had a thesis to write. If he took a break every time Brad had a few drinks or had a good day or it was Tuesday, he’d never meet his deadlines. Every time he pointed this out to Brad, though, Brad retorted that Nate’s per day page quota was arbitrary and self-imposed. Brad won that argument annoyingly often, and Nate was determined that tonight was not going to be another victory for Brad.

“I had to do a report on it.”

“What?”

“Wyoming. In third grade, we all had to do a project on a state.”

“Mine was on Connecticut,” Nate said absently, stripping off Brad’s dress socks and tossing them in the general vicinity of the hamper. “Their state song is ‘Yankee Doodle.’”

“Pussies” Brad grinned at him, splayed across the pillows, and clearly very pleased with himself.

“Wyoming is a cool state” he continued “They have bison there.” Nate moved up to unbutton Brad’s belt. Brad, distracted by his story, didn’t even try to grab him. Nate was honestly a little disappointed, his resolve weakened by Brad’s rambling. Brad was rarely like this - goofy and careless and chatty.

“I wrote an excellent report. I even drew a horned lizard for it. A bunch of morons picked California as their state because we did California history the year before. As if the teacher wouldn’t notice.” Brad shook his head, still vaguely irritated at the attempts of a bunch of nine-year-olds to shirk their fair share of work two decades ago. 

Nate had to smile. He loved this man, god help him, this beautiful man, whose sense of fair play ran so deep. The only light in the room was the lamp on the dresser, which Nate had flipped on when they entered. It shouldn’t have seemed notable; he saw Brad in this light all the time, but right now, Nate was having a hard time remembering why he didn’t want to join Brad in the bed. 

Perhaps it was Brad’s posture. Nate wanted to put his hands - and his mouth - all over him, on the relaxed slope of his shoulders, on the teasing cock of his hip, on the smile tugging at the corner of Brad’s mouth.

“The mistake was theirs, though” Brad continued, sounding smug, “because there were eight reports on California to compare to one another and only one on...oh hi” Brad gave Nate a sloppy smile as he noticed that Nate had moved up the bed and was straddling his hips.

“Hi, yourself”

Not entirely ready to admit defeat, Nate ducked Brad’s gaze by focusing on undoing the buttons on his white cotton shirt. He watched his own fingers slip plastic through cloth, careful not to touch any of the warm, smooth skin revealed by his journey. 

After he pulled the tails of Brad’s shirt out of his waistband and undid every button, Nate looked up to see Brad watching him, smug satisfaction dripping off every line of his body.

“Why are you stopping? Did you forget what happens next?”

He bucked his hips helpfully, and Nate let Brad tip him forward until he was braced with his forearms on either side of Brad’s head.

“Hi,” Brad said again. This time, Brad smiled at him wide and brilliant, without a single pretense. Whatever Nate was going to say next got lost in that gut punch of a smile. 

Brad tilted his head up to close his lips over Nate’s, still smiling.

Heart reeling, Nate was slow to respond, barely following Brad’s lips with his own. Brad, being Brad, noticed immediately and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

Brad searched Nate’s face, his eyes suddenly sharp, as if nothing in the universe mattered except Nate. It was a considerable amount of attention for one person to bear.

When he was a kid, Nate had been body surfing at the shore when a wave had crested earlier than he’d expected and crashed down on his head, dragging him under and tossing him over and over. He vividly remembered the experience of being swept away, unable to see or breath or hear, and completely disoriented. He hadn’t known which way to swim, where the surface was until he’d slammed face first into the beach. This, here, with Brad, felt like that moment.

Suddenly desperate, he dropped his mouth back to Brad’s. He swept his tongue into Brad’s mouth, kissing him with everything he felt; all of the love and affection and startling frustration and yes, fear. He dragged his teeth down Brad’s lower lip, pulling off long enough for Brad to gasp a startled “wha?” before Nate slammed their mouths together again.

Brad responded instantly, bucking up under him and giving back every frantic kiss he got. Nate kissed him again and again, sucking and biting with little finesse, desperate to drive Brad as wild as he felt.

Brad’s hand wrapped around the back of Nate’s neck, holding him close as if Nate were his anchor in this storm instead of the storm itself. That gesture simply undid what little composure Nate was clinging to. “God, Brad,” he moaned, the words coming out deep and rough, pulled out of somewhere inside him, half benediction, half curse.

He ducked his head and scraped his teeth at his favorite spot under Brad’s jaw; the spot that always got Brad, and tonight was no exception. Brad let out a soft breath and let his hands and head drop to the bed, exposing his neck so Nate could have better access. Nate immediately took advantage, kissing and licking down Brad’s neck. Nate bit lightly at Brad’s collarbone, enjoying the sound of the breath punching out of Brad’s chest when he bit down again, harder this time. He licked soothingly at the spot, then moved, biting hard at the muscle of Brad’s shoulder. 

“Christ,” Brad muttered, “Nate, you need to…” He trailed off as Nate sucked at the same spot, swirling his tongue soothingly, but leaving no doubt that he was leaving a very deliberate mark. Whatever Brad was trying to say got lost in his groan, as he twisted under Nate, still trying to pull Nate closer.

Nate clutched at Brad’s waist with his knees, grabbing Brad’s chin and turning him so he could kiss him again, sweeping his tongue into Brad’s mouth, claiming rather than asking. It didn’t feel safe, loving one person so completely to the exclusion of everything else. He’d had a plan for his life, a plan for his future, hell, a plan for his thesis, and none of it had included Brad, brilliant, caring, infuriating Brad, who had so quickly become the center of his equanimity. 

Nate couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop touching, kissing and biting. It was terrifying to have his heart walking around outside his body, taking turns too fast on motorcycles and generally behaving as if he were unbreakable. Nate couldn’t keep him close, couldn’t keep him safe, but right now, in the soft golden light of their bedroom, Brad was his to have, to break, to catch Nate when he broke.

Brad pulled his head back and gasped Nate’s name. “You have to…” Brad’s voice broke off when Nate bent down and nipped at his Adam’s apple.

“Nate,” Brad said again, firmer this time. Nate pulled back. Brad squeezed his shut eyes and exhaled sharply. He opened his eyes and said, “Touch me.”

Startled, Nate looked to where his hands were clenching the sheets. Trust Brad not to miss a detail, even at a time like this. A little breathless, Nate dipped his head to nuzzle at Brad’s hairline and moved his hands to Brad’s shoulders, smoothing and soothing with gentle fingers.

“Sorry, I got a little lost.” Nate moved a hand lower and moved his thumb in a slow circle around Brad’s nipple, mirroring the movement with his tongue behind Brad’s ear. “Better?”

Brad’s chest heaved, and he turned his head to kiss Nate again. “It’s a start,” he muttered against Nate’s lips and Nate tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob.

Brad’s shoulders tightened underneath Nate’s hands like he was going to pull away, going to ask what was wrong again. Nate couldn’t have that. There weren’t words for what was happening right now, and if there were, he didn’t want them. Tonight wasn’t for thinking. 

To distract Brad, Nate moved his hands further down his chest, lightly stroking down his pecs, following with his mouth. Despite the feelings choking him, Nate slowed his pace, realizing that he wanted so much more than Brad desperate beneath him. 

Nate pressed slow kisses down Brad’s torso. He slipped the waistband of Brad’s briefs just low enough to trace patterns on Brad’s hipbone with his tongue, kneading at the muscles of Brad’s thigh with his hands. Beneath him, Brad shifted restlessly.

Brad might have been the one walking around the world with a crater in his chest, but this relationship was no less momentous for Nate than it was for him, if only because Nate had never trusted another person enough to leave them capable of blowing a hole in him.

He’d had relationships, been in love even, but they’d always been a compromise, and one that Nate wasn’t very good at - he resented smoothing his aggression, surrendering his independence. He’d been signing the contract to join the Marines before it even occurred to him that he should consult his girlfriend about the decision. 

Nate took his time with the long lean line of Brad’s thigh, nipping and biting down the muscle and pressing soft kisses to his inner leg. Above him, Brad cursed his name and gasped when Nate hit a ticklish spot below the knee.

“Sorry,” Nate muttered, “Sorry.” He moved to attend to Brad’s other side, and Brad released a long breath, body still strung tight.

It had never been like this before, for Nate, where he could be all of the things he was, could bring all the pieces of himself that made him a good Marine and all the pieces that made him good at civilian life to the table all at once and be seen and accepted. 

Nate pressed all of this love and gratitude into Brad’s skin with fervent fingers and soft lips. He worshipped Brad’s body with all of the reverence that Brad wouldn’t accept from him another way.

“Nate” Brad pleaded, the stress in his voice causing the word to break in two. “Nate, please.”

‘I know” Nate said, pressing kisses to Brad’s hips and sides, running his hands up and down Brad’s chest in a gentle caress. He moved back up Brad’s body to kiss him again, aiming for an easy, soothing kiss but missing. Brad’s mouth opened easily beneath his, and Nate let himself get carried away exploring the familiar territory. 

Brad tugged at the hem of Nate’s t-shirt. Nate sat up to pull his shirt off over his head and stopped for a moment to enjoy the view of Brad dazed and panting, eyes glassy and mouth swollen. He was so beautiful in that moment that Nate’s heart felt like it might break. 

Impatient with Nate’s sightseeing, Brad surged up to kiss Nate again.

Nate tugged off Brad’s underwear, immediately dipping his head to explore all the new skin revealed by the motion. Brad’s dick lay hard and leaking on his stomach, but Nate bypassed it to take his time sucking and nibbling at the crease of Brad’s thigh. He still couldn’t believe that he got to do this, to touch all this skin, that Brad so willingly put himself in Nate’s hands. 

Nate shimmied down to get better access and ignored the hitching little thrusts of Brad’s hips to focus on biting at Brad’s hipbone and tracing the long muscles with his tongue. He lapped at the pre-cum Brad had spilled on his stomach, and then slowly licked Brad’s dick from root to tip.

“Christ,” Brad said through gritted teeth, head thrown back. “Fuck you.”

There was a smart remark there somewhere, but Nate didn’t bother trying to chase it down, distracted as he was by the sound of Brad’s short, panting breaths, the feel of his hips under Nate’s fingers, the sight of his hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets.

It was an exercise in self-denial not to get himself off right there, to the sounds and smell and feel of Brad, but Nate closed his mind to the thrumming of his own blood, the need choking his throat. He  
wasn’t done with Brad.

When Nate stopped teasing them both and took Brad fully into his mouth, Brad’s sigh of pleasure sent a surge of want through Nate’s body. This was how it should be between them, always. Honest and uncomplicated. Nate adjusted positions, moving to take Brad deeper, to give him more, but Brad stopped him.

“Wait,” he said, tugging at Nate’s shoulders, “Not like this. Come here.”

Nate came and Brad wrapped his arms around him and rolled them. Brad let himself fall heavily onto Nate so that they were pressed together from shoulders to toes, kissed him sweetly and said, “You were too far away.”

Brad threaded their fingers together with one hand and brought the other down to unbutton Nate’s pants. Nate closed his eyes and let Brad arrange them as he pleased. Brad was right, this was better. The warmth and weight of him steadied Nate, gave him something to cling to. Even half-drunk and taken by surprise, Brad always knew what Nate needed.

Brad didn’t bother to strip him, pushing at Nate’s boxers with clumsy fingers until he had Nate’s erection in his hand. Nate cursed under his breath and Brad brought their mouths together, bringing them back to the frantic pace of before.

Nate arched under him, pressing against the weight of Brad covering him, still desperate for more, for everything. 

Brad shifted and, using Nate’s spit and their sweat and precum as their only lube, wrapped his hand around them both. It wasn’t enough, not really, but Nate couldn’t bear to let go of Brad long enough to reach over and get something better. They lacked coordination enough for more than the simplest of kisses, but it was enough to press his forehead to Brad’s and feel him close. Brad twisted his fist and Nate gasped. 

When Nate opened his eyes, Brad was staring at him, everything Nate was feeling written all over his face. It looked so raw, Nate flicked his eyes away, embarrassed as if he’d seen something not meant for him. But he looked back almost immediately because him too, and he wanted Brad to know, to know that he wasn’t alone in this in the immensity of this.

He wasn’t going to hide from Brad not now, not ever. He was trying to gather his brain enough to tell him so when Brad twisted his hand over him and Nate’s orgasm crested over him in a crashing rush that took him completely by surprise. 

Later, when Nate’s heartbeat had almost settled back into its standard rhythm, Brad asked 

“You want to tell me what that was about?” 

“You tricked me into having sex with you instead of working on my thesis. Again.”

‘“I tricked you? I didn’t know you were so into state symbols. Should I buy you an Encyclopedia Britannica to keep under the bed while I’m away?”

“I did always like the set they had at our library. They had embossed lettering and gold edged pages.”

“Nate.” Brad’s voice was patient but firm. He wouldn’t be letting this go anytime soon. “What just happened?”

Nate sighed. Nothing had happened, except, “It was about this time last year that you decided you’d had enough and fucked off to California to avoid my calls for three weeks.”

Brad made a small noise of understanding in the back of his throat. “So you thought you’d try a preemptive strike? Make sure I had no feeling in my legs if I decided to run for it?”

Nate snorted inelegantly into Brad’s shoulder. “No, if you were stupid enough to try that again, I’d follow you and make you finish the fight properly. I was just appreciating...I mean..I’m happy.”

“Yeah,” Brad said quietly and tightened his arms around Nate just enough for Nate to know what he meant.

They lay there like that, enjoying the quiet of the bedroom until Brad spoke up again.

“Given that that you’re the Ivy League tactician currently writing a thesis on how to properly supply the world’s armies in case of a third world war, I assume you have a plan for turning out the light without me having to move?”

Nate poked him in the ribs. 

“In all seriousness, I am never moving again, so you need to do something to address this light issue.”

Nate burrowed down further in Brad’s hold

“Sorry. No. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Brad laughed under him and reached a long arm out to snag a pillow off the edge of the bed and draped it over their faces. Wrapped in the warmth of their bed, Nate was asleep in minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti 
> 
> “Recipe For Happiness Khaborovsk Or Anyplace’  
> One grand boulevard with trees  
> with one grand cafe in sun  
> with strong black coffee in very small cups.  
> One not necessarily very beautiful  
> man or woman who loves you.  
> One fine day.”


End file.
